GREY ABANDON

The cup of steaming tea
Perched lazily by my side,
Gives a warming pleasure
As I gaze out at the grey abandon.
Boats tethered and scattered
On the lonely kelp strewn sand,
Await the tide to free them
To give them life again.
Their colours peer through the murk
Like sea shells washed by the surf,
Mirrored by the pastel cottages
Lime washed and nudging tightly together.
Fishermen from far off days
Would peer with professional eye,
Their quarry out there, deep in the grey abandon.
The ghostly haze of pipe smoke
And the warming sting of grog,
Haunt the huddled streets and houses
Although, they've long since gone.
The morning bustle is orchestrated
With an almost tranquil restrain,
People have time for one another
Life feels good again.
I step out once more onto the quayside
Into the enveloping, keen Devonish air,
The grey, leaden water laps gently
And the gulls sail the skies without a care.
A morning stroll along the seafront
With a cleansing of ones thoughts,
Brings a joyous feeling of being and reason
A love for the sea and its grey abandon.

 
Phil Hall  September 2013

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